


Begging For You To Be My Escape

by SwellDame



Series: Watch Me Burn [6]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, Cunnilingus, Dom Drop, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Fingering, Forced Eye Contact, Frottage, Gun Kink, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Malesub, Naked Male Clothed Female, Not My Fault, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Sailing, Sexual Shaming, Slapping, Strip Tease, Sub!Athos, Teasing, Undressing, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension, War, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, What did I just write?, dom!Milady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9668261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwellDame/pseuds/SwellDame
Summary: Milady decides that she will unleash her own dominant side after what transpired between them the previous night. After all, they have nothing else to do on the ship back to France.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [ Close the Door](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7549315/chapters/17168299)

 

Anne closed her eyes and relished the sea spray against her skin. Nothing brought more pleasure than picturing her husband as he would be at the moment in the Captain's quarters, kneeling in the middle of the room with his arms at his side and his head bowed toward the door. That is, if he was being a good boy. She should go to him. Or wait a little longer.

The wind shifted her dress skirts, the fabric brushing against the tender whip marks he had left behind. Anne gritted her teeth as a wave of pain and pleasure overtook her. She clutched the wooden hand railing, squeezing her eyes shut.

 _You must maintain control,_ she chastised herself after her body calmed once more.

Within a single stolen glance at the door to the Captain’s quarters, she knew she wasn’t ready yet. She was still searching for something she didn’t know how to find. Was it the fortitude- dare she say it, the anger to carry her through? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t done this before. All she knew was that she needed this just as much as he did.

The realization had come to her last, night shortly after she drifted to sleep. It had little to do with punishing Athos for his brutality. Save for a few of his now-dead enemies, Anne may have been the only one left alive who knew he was a brutal man when he was left to tend to his own emotions, something he was never good at doing. No, he needed it to wheel him back from the edge; that same edge he pushed himself over when he whipped her last night. Now she needed to be pushed over that edge as well. Only this time she was not going to fall.

"Sea sick?" the Captain asked. She opened her eyes and shook her head. She preferred to watch the English coastline slowly fading into the horizon, hoping the Captain would realize she was deep in concentration and would respectfully leave her alone.

“The most common remedy is looking into the horizon,” he proffered his unneeded advice. “It’s supposed to work best, but. . .”

Anne watched him pull an object out of his coat pocket.

“I chew on ginger root.” He handed over a piece and she politely took it, hoping the gesture would allow the Captain to leave her to her thoughts again. It was then she saw him eyeing Athos’ pistol strapped to her waist. It must have been curious to see a man’s pistol amongst the folds of blue taffeta, and the thought made her smirk. What would this man think of her if they were ever to meet on the streets of Paris when she was cloaked in black as Milady de Winter?

“You don’t have to worry about your safety on board my ship, Madame. It’s rare for my crew to have a female passenger, but you will be well-looked after, especially being the wife of the Captain of the Musketeers,” he finished.

“Thank you,” she replied. She didn’t even try to think of him mentioning being legally bound to her. It ignited a tiny flame inside her and the problem was she couldn’t decide whether she liked this public acknowledgment or should resent it.

“I should retire to see how my husband is doing. He might need this more than I.” She waved the ginger root in her hand a little and moved toward the Captain’s quarters.

“If you need anything, I’m at your service!” the Captain called after her.

“Thank you,” she replied without turning her head, trying to rein in the irritation in her voice. She needed all of the strength she could muster to at least try to face the scene before her.  She promptly opened the door and slipped inside.

“What a sight to see,” she sighed as she closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

She took in the sight of her perfectly tall, broad-shouldered husband kneeling in the same spot she directed him to before she left to take some air on deck.

“Have you moved since I left?” she inquired.

“Anne -”

“ _Who am I?”_ Her voice turned dark and tight without raising her tone, but Athos’ body still tightened under the pressure of her recognizing his mistake. She thought she felt the moment slip past them when he called her by her Christian name. He knew who she was and he knew how to act accordingly. That mistake would cost him.

“No, Milady.”

“Good boy,” her voice returned to a seductive purr. “You may stand up now and look at me. I wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

When he lifted his head, she pulled the ginger root out from under her sleeve with a flourish- not that he could miss it, it was quite a large piece- nor would he not recognize it. They had briefly experimented with ginger back in Pinon in the early days of their marriage when everything was new and exciting. His eyes widened now at the sight of it, and Anne smiled.

“I -”

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not going to start with this. You know me better than that, dear husband.” She approached him slowly, making sure his eyes didn’t leave the root in her hand.

“But I might use it later if I feel so inclined.” She pressed it against his lips so he could inhale the sharp aroma.

Anne closed the distance between them. There was a dangerous sense of urgency to feel his muscles harden and strain from not being allowed to touch her just as she previously commanded him. However she didn’t plan on his eyes burning into hers, drawing her closer still. When their lips were mere inches apart, she pulled back. She drew in a sharp inhale. Her eyes narrowed.

 _Too close. Too. Close,_ she thought. When she withdrew, his seductive gaze vanished back into compliance even though his body remained tense.

Before she could stop herself, she slapped him across the face. His head jolted to the side from the force of her hand. When she withdrew, her palm stung but the rest of her was electrified. She wouldn’t wait for him to pull back and look at her; she couldn’t risk it. Instead, she moved around to the window with her back toward him to carefully hide her face.

“For now, I have other things in mind.” She set the root on the table and tried to steady her breathing.

“You never told me about what happened when you went to fetch my things this morning.” She remembered how he returned to their room with his face flushed from embarrassment. She heard him make a few incoherent sounds, but no audible words were spoken.

“I wonder what your brothers would say if they saw their Captain fumbling for words on how to explain to his wife that her landlord made it difficult to retrieve her belongings.” She gripped his pistol at her side and raised it. “What would they think if they saw you like this?”

She turned around to face Athos, still standing in the same spot she left him with a red imprint on his cheek from where she slapped him. She aimed the gun square at his head. His eyes flitted from startled to a glint of a distant memory suddenly renewed before him.

He opened his mouth to speak, looking at the gun, then at her, but she was the first:

“ _Strip._ ”

He fumbled through divesting himself of his clothes. His hands trembled over the buttons on his doublet, and when his shirt was pulled over his head, it was the first time she saw the scars this war marred his broad chest and narrow torso with scars. She must have made an audible gasp, because he stopped with his hands poised over his breeches. Thankfully, he didn't comment on it. Instead he asked,

"Is it loaded?” His voice was deep and sensuous.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied, her thumb noticeably slipping to the trigger. Suddenly she was aware of the danger and her control of their situation. She craved more when eyeing his breeches and the rest of his clothing, silently commanding for him to continue. But he was too slow.

“ _Hurry,”_ she ordered. He did as he was bidden, his fingers trembling as he untied his breeches and let them fall.

Anne’s grip on the gun tightened as she gazed upon her husband’s naked form. She felt her control slipping away. The temptation was there, hot in her bloodstream, to take him then and there, but she knew she couldn’t. Spinning away, she leaned against the bureau for support. The gun skittered out of her grasp across the wood.

“What would you like me to do, Milady?” he asked.

_Was that a hint of mockery? He’ll pay for it._

“Do you remember our signal?”

“Yes.”

“Then remain silent until I ask you to speak.”

For a few moments there was nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the ship’s hull creaking as it rocked against the waves. She eyed the pile of clothes on the floor, and a delectable idea came to mind. Suddenly, Anne felt warm and cold tremors chase each other simultaneously throughout her body. Offering little resistance to the sensation, her hands trembled a bit as she reached for the ties of her cloak and pulled, allowing the heavy material to fall away.

She undressed almost as though her husband wasn’t there, naked and hard, waiting for her. His breath quickened with each layer that fell away, so loud and heavy, that for a moment she thought Athos may have moved to stand behind her. He had done that in their youth, she remembered; grinding himself against her backside, barely containing his control while unlacing her corset, his hot breath on her neck. She had to summon control then, just as she had to summon it now.

When it came to the last of her clothing - clad only in her sheer chemise, gloves, stockings and boots, the coil of desire tightened in her belly. He would see everything through the fabric from the position she was standing in front of the window.

An unmistakable whimper escaped her husband as she bared a shoulder to the daylight. She smiled to herself.

  
"It's remarkably warm standing here at the window.” She glanced back at him, her eyes sparkling, then turned away to shimmy her other shoulder free.

She let the chemise fall and join the rest of the pool of clothes at her feet. Turning to face him, Anne bit down on her lip in order to contain the self-satisfied, girlish smile threatening to overthrow her dominance. His body was clearly tight with frustration and want, his knuckles white from the mental restraint of not being able to touch her; his weeping cock standing at attention, begging to be inside her.

“Speak. Do you want to come now?” she asked, knowing full well what the answer would be; there was a hidden pleasure in humiliating him like this.

“No.” His voice was gruff.

She nodded, knowing he was only partially telling the truth. They had an unspoken understanding - he loved to prolong this part of their play, he hungered for the ecstasy of her torment. And she knew exactly what she was doing to him with the gentle swing of her naked hips, hypnotizing him with her walk over to the desk.

She pulled out the chair, dragging it across the room and setting it where she stood before, still out of his reach. She sat down without ceremony, discarding her boots, then rolled off her stockings and tossed them behind her. There she continued to sit, her legs slightly spread just to give him a peek between her thighs.

She brought her silk-gloved hands up to her breasts, plucking her nipples and watching him closely. Athos grunted and tried to remain inconspicuous in licking his lips. _Poor man._

“What would the Captain think if he were to walk in and see me indisposed like this?” she contemplated aloud as she reached for Athos’ shirt.

She slowly pulled it on, shimmying it onto her shoulders, adjusting the opening in order to offer him a perfect view of her cleavage. But she didn’t wait to appreciate his reaction. Next, she grabbed his boots, wiggling her toes for his amusement before pulling them on. She bent over, giving him a generous spectacle of her pale breasts hanging loose inside the material, threatening to spill out of the shirt’s opening; and picked up the belt, looping it around her waist. The leather hung loosely around her hips. She reached for the not-forgotten pistol and put in its holster before grabbing the discarded hat. She adjusted it on her head, making sure it sloped at an attractive angle in order to peer at him from beneath the brim. Once she was settled in the seat, she grabbed the gun again and pointed it at Athos.

“Now.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Crawl to me.”

He did. Slowly. Achingly. His muscles were rigid as he moved with his hard cock bobbing and leaking all over the floor and his stomach, a series of desperate groans heightening each gesture until he was at her feet.

“Good boy,” she commented with approval, “Kiss my boot.”

Without hesitation, he pressed his lips to the boot toe and glided them across the leather to the bridge. His eyes met hers with a wordless question of whether to continue or pull away. She simply answered it with a nod of her head, and he continued his path upwards, savoring the aroma and cracked texture against his lips. His cock hardened even more - if that were possible. When his warm, wet lips met her bare shin, Anne’s facade cracked a little - she bit her lip, enthralled with watching him submit to her.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.

He moved higher, kissing her knee and then without stopping, moved to her pale inner thigh. She sucked in a breath as his lips found that one sensitive part Anne thought he would have forgotten after all these years.

“Athos,” she hissed and nudged the gun to his head, “ _Now.”_

His tongue purposely skirted across her clit, making her hips buck forward, her legs clenching. It had been too long and against her better judgment, Anne’s body softened and her hand was soon pulling on his brown locks, scratching at his scalp, which elicited a deep groan from Athos as he continued to bite, suckle and lick.

“Stop.” He was pushing her towards the end with every brush of his tongue. But she didn’t want to come yet.

“Athos,” she hissed, pressing the pistol’s barrel into his jaw, “ _Stop._ ”

With one last lick, which he would surely pay for, he lifted his head from between her thighs.

"You still have a healthy oral fixation I see." She dragged the cold metal along his jawline, maintaining the bruising pressure until it slid to his closed mouth. Now he waited for her next command.

“Lick it. Just as you did me.” Her voice low and husky when Athos’ tongue slipped out and slid across the metal. The pleasure in Anne’s stomach pulsed while she watched his pink tongue intimately glide and skim over the barrel, as far as he could reach, worshiping it as if he were still pleasuring her. Without hesitation, he opened his mouth wide and devoured it.

Anne considered how he never looked more handsome than he did now, with his red, wet lips wrapped around the gun, the weapon wiggling in her hand as it moved over his tongue. It occurred to her how much she missed putting objects into her dear husband’s mouth - his pistol, the beloved wooden cock they used to play with, her fingers.

“Look at you,” A dark laugh erupted in her throat. “Musketeer Slut.” She observed his knuckle-white fists twitch, with his left slowly uncurled and moving across his thigh.

“Don’t even think about it,” she spat. When she removed the gun, a string of spittle hung in the air between him and the barrel until it broke and slid down his chin.

“Milady, please,” Athos’ voice hitched into a moan as he bent his head back, clearly trying to restrain himself from touching her or coming. Perhaps both.

“Please, what?” she demanded. The weapon drifted down his throat to his chest and landed square over his heart. “What do you need?”

But she didn’t wait for his answer, instead she pushed the gun into this chest and said, “Seeing as how you can’t be trusted;” before making a dramatic pause. “On your back.”

He did as he was bidden, groaning as he did because of his body aching with need. Anne swallowed. For the first time, since they started this little game of theirs, she felt the gun tremble a little in her hand. She could stop this if she wanted to - all she had to do was say the word and it would be over. But Anne fought against the urge. She watched as her husband looked at her through hooded lids - could he see it too? The hesitation? Her fear? She blinked. Her next move was taking too long.

“Aaaa-” the sound died in his throat. “-Milady, please. . .”

His plea was all she needed to spur her into action. She pushed aside the likelihood that he may have said it for her benefit.

“Move your hands to the side of your head, palms up,” she ordered. He did so without question.

“Good boy,” she complimented and slid over his body, her soft skin skimming over his muscled torso. She knelt on the palms of his hands with her hips straddling his face.

“Look but don’t touch,” she said, letting her hand drift down to her soaked clit while the other held the barrel of the gun to the side of his head, making sure he didn’t look away even if he wanted to. She doubted he did.

But it proved to be her undoing. Her climax took over soon after, her breath hitched in her throat,

“ _Shit_.”

She faintly felt the gun slip from her grip, needing to steady herself as she fell forward. Through the fog of the afterglow, she looked to see where the pistol landed. It seemed both of their reflexes were on edge, both gazing at the unloaded pistol next to them. But Athos was the first to turn back and devote his attention to suckling on her encased fingers that hadn’t left her sex. Anne groaned and closed her eyes, allowing the sensation of his warm breath to reinvigorate her need for more. Only Athos could awaken this part of herself.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she muttered, even as her body lagged a bit. She slowly slid away, down his body once more.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” she cooed, truly astonished by the fact that he hadn’t come yet himself. She was almost afraid to touch him out of fear that one brush of her hand and he would spend, and this would be over. But she did touch him and when her hand wrapped itself around his wet and hard cock, his hips bucked.

“Not yet,” she hissed as she ground her swollen clit against him, “Not yet.”

The image he conveyed would forever be burned in her memory - his head pushed back with his eyes screwed tight, presenting his strained neck to her, while his hands, which never left their previous position, were clenched white. Anne ground herself into him once more, riding closer to a second orgasm.

She ripped off the glove with her teeth, tossed it away, and placed her bare hand over his throat. His skin was hot against hers, the muscles under her nimble fingertips, his pulse and how he swallowed for air, all in her control. She squeezed. She bent forward, jerking her hips against him again as she bit down on his earlobe.

“Anne.” He struggled, his breath  hot against her cheek. She dragged her lips down his chest to his puckered, sensitive nipple. He writhed under her as her teeth grazed his skin. She drew back and looked down at him, releasing his throat. He gasped.

“Touch me,” she commanded.

Beneath her, Athos tensed and thrust up. His hands moved over her body, without leaving one inch untouched. But it wasn’t satisfactory for Anne. She grabbed his hands by the wrist, placing one on her hip and the other on her breast. He seemed to understand the message when he squeezed her ample flesh and sent one last sensation that overtook her into an unexpected frenzy. Anne tossed her head back. Her heart raced and her body arched in pleasure as she moaned,

“Olivier!”

She didn’t realize the moment their movements slowed, but as soon as a deep sense of peace seemed to fill her, her eyes snapped open and reality set in.

Anne disentangled herself from his embrace, immediately redressing and trying to not concentrate on what transpired between them. She went through the motions of taking care for him - helping him to the bed, making sure he was tended to with a cup of water at his bed side, but felt it. _The drop._

“Sleep with me?” Athos mumbled. His hand made a lazy gesture of patting the bed beside him.

“Later,” she replied. But it didn’t sound convincing, and he made a disapproving grumble which, for whatever reason, stung her even though she didn’t know what he said exactly.

She left the room to take some air on deck, and hoped that with some distance between them, it would put her mind at ease.

She was unsuccessful.


End file.
